eleanor j jackson
  • Eleanor Jackson is a Filipino Australian poet,
    performer, arts producer, cyclist, writer, gal
    about town, feminist, freewheeler, and
    friend. One day, she is going to be an
    ideas curator. Which basically
    means, she will tell you
    exactly what she thinks.
    Until then, you’ll have
    to read between
    the lines.

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no cure for sadness

  • November 25, 2013
  • by Eleanor Jackson
  • · musing

20131125-185154.jpg

but to learn something.
the city that comes home to us,
in newspapers’ (the optic) grim times, portend –
there in the libidinal Cartesian streets
that city’s oxymoronic “life” –
smashed in windows of dressed up views.
art as obituary.
relations as anomalous compass.
fangs facts strata statistic
the coronary of expectation bursting
what we loved
what we feared
what we desired
what we speculated
art is the expert and the confounded fool
some five and dime
some give and take

the poem, as always, the esoteric test case:

Blake, London

in every weakened woeful face
the blackening church
their marriage hearse

this city is the document of the ruler and the ruled
each city a mirror to misery seen most perfectly
those acts of sight, aggressive and strangling,
police your instinct

I run like loose blood, sighing this midnight city day.

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